You Say It Best
by Shoori
Summary: A series of vignettes chronicling the development of Duo and Trowa's relationship as they struggle to make one very important declaration. Songfic, sappy.


**"When You Say Nothing At All"**  
  


  
Life never ends up giving you what you expect, you know?

Lots of times it craps on you.  People die, they leave you, you get hurt… Over and over and over again, you get hurt.

Then, when your losing streak has hit an all-time high, and you're about to throw in the towel for good…

Then, you get everything you've ever wanted.

At least, I have.

**_It's amazing  
How you can speak  
Right to my heart_**

****

"Stop it.  Just…don't!  Knock it off.  I'm serious, Trowa, don't say…"

"I haven't said anything," he points out calmly.

I feel myself flush.  I was just working on the engine.  I leaned down to tighten something, and when I came up, my braid didn't.  And when I tried to reach down and untangle it, my sleeve caught on something else.  Then my hairtie broke.  And the shirt tore, and part of my arm went through it.  And I leaned in further and sort of lost my balance, and…

Hell.  It's a fucking mess.

I can't really see him, but I know he's laughing at me.  He must be, how couldn't he?  I mean…

I jump when I feel strong hands pulling on my shirt, tearing the already shredded fabric even more.  At least I can move my arm now.  Then I feel him reaching even further down, and there's a tug on my scalp.

I tense.  I can't help it.  Even after all we've been through, even though we've been together for a year, I'm still very….protective…of my hair.  And I'm sure he's going to have to tear it out…there's no way to get it loose but to break it off…

He's not saying anything, and I can't really see what he's doing from this angle, but after that first sharp tug, I haven't felt anything…

"Tro?"  I swallow.  "Just…just rip it out, man.  I've got it all wrapped around something…"

He doesn't say anything, and I start to feel a little restive.  I mean, I'm stuck in a fucking engine.  Anyone could be watching.

"Tro?  Come on, man, just…"

"There."  There's no mistaking the quiet satisfaction in his voice.  I straighten up quickly, and see him smiling at me, holding the end of my braid.

"It's fine," he tells me softly.

I grab my hair, and examine it.  The ends look a little the worse for wear, and it definitely needs a strengthening conditioning treatment – not to mention a shampoo – but the shredded, bushy mess I was dreading is non-existent.

I look up at him, amazed.

"I wouldn't hurt your hair, Duo," he assures me softly, no trace of amusement or mockery in his eyes.  He turns and walks away, back into the house, leaving me staring at his back.

He won't hurt my hair.

**_  
Without saying a word,  
You can light up the dark_**

****

_I scream, running through the smoldering rubble and the flying ash.  This can't be happening.  Not again.  Not them._

_Why them?  They didn't do anything!  They didn't hurt anybody, they were just trying to help…_

_All my friends, Father Maxwell, Sister Helen…_

_Dead.__  They're all dead…_

_"Thanks, kid."  A tall soldier smirks at me over the bodies of the people I love.  "Thanks for giving us an excuse.  This was a great object lesson as to what happens when you fuck with us," he grins, waving his hand at the smoking wreckage.  "And if it wasn't for you, we might never have had the chance to waste this place…"_

_My fault… It's all my fault…_

_I scream, scream at him, at the sky, at God, at anyone and everyone… I can't do anything, I can only scream…_

I gasp, startled, and come awake suddenly as I feel hands on my shoulders, shaking me firmly.  My throat is raw…I must have been screaming out loud….

I look up slowly, not wanting to see the derision that must be in his eyes, but desperate to see that he's really here, that it was just a dream, that everything is all right…

He's staring down at me, in the light from the open window I can see the concern in his eyes, and I'm not afraid any more.

**_  
Try as I may  
I could never explain  
What I hear when  
You don't say a thing  
  
He stares at me for a minute, then moves one hand up from my shoulder and slowly cups my cheek.  His eyes never leave mine, as he gently strokes my cheekbones, my jaw, my chin.  His fingers trace my lips, and unconsciously, I part them.  His thumb rubs over them gently, then he pulls my face close to his and slowly, gently kisses me.  I sigh into his mouth as his tongue rubs lightly against mine._**

We kiss for a moment, then he pulls back, and lays back down, pulling me with him until I'm half laying on him, my head on his chest.  He wraps his arms around me securely, and I feel his lips brush against the top of my head.

He holds me for a long time, until the horror of the dream fades away, and I fall asleep again, this time warm and safe and comforted.

I don't know how he does it.  I don't know how he knows that I can't talk about it, that Duo who never shuts up can't bear to relate the dream, not there in the dark.  I don't know how he knows I can't stand to hear false words of comfort, assurances that this thing that can never be fixed will be "all right."  

I don't know how he knows.  But he does.  And he gives me…

I can't even express what he gives me.  But it's the only thing that could ever, ever, get me to go to sleep again on a night when I've dreamed about Maxwell Church.

****

**_The smile on your face  
Lets me know  
That you need me  
  
_**

"Come on.  Spill it," Quatre orders.

I raise my eyebrow at him as I take another swallow of beer.  "Spill what?" I demand lazily.

"The goods," he says impatiently.  "The news.  What's up with you two?"

I grin.  He's so damn nosy.

"Come _on, Maxwell," he demands impatiently.  _

"What do you want to know, Q?" I grin, taking another swallow of beer.

"How's…how's everything going?"

I grin.  "Oh…absolutely fucking wonderful," I drawl, smirking at him.  "Indescribable.  Mind-bending…"

"Not the _sex," he snaps impatiently.  "Have you told him you love him?  Has he told you?"_

My smile falters.  We haven't…had that conversation.  I mean…everything's been perfect, and I haven't felt any inclination to disturb the status quo…

I glance over, across the yard, where Trowa stands with Heero and Zechs and Wufei, showing them the dock we've built on the small lake on the edge of the property.  It's a glorified pond, really, but it never dries up, and fish live in it, and you can swim in it, so it's a lake in my book.

"Duo?  You haven't talked about that yet?"  Quatre sounds horrified.  Since he bullied Wufei into moving into the Winner mansion with him, and they adopted a little orphaned Chinese boy, he's turned into the world's most annoying den mother/relationship therapist.

"Duo, you need to talk about it!  You can't – either of you – keep letting it slide like this!  You need to know where you stand!"

I stare across the yard, Quatre's words washing over me.  Maybe he's right.  Maybe Trowa doesn't know how I feel about him…

My stomach tightens as I have another thought.  Maybe he does, but hasn't mentioned it because…because he doesn't feel the same way.  Maybe he doesn't want…permanence.  Or maybe he just doesn't really feel that way about me…

He glances up, probably feeling my stare on him.  His eyes meet mine, and our gazes hold for a minute.  

Suddenly, his lips curve, just slightly, then more, and more still until he's smiling at me, grinning even.  Even from this distance, I can see the warmth in the expression.  I can't help smiling back, his joy communicating itself to me.

We just grin foolishly at each other for a while, I don't know how long, until Wufei smacks him on the back of the head and he jumps, returning his attention to the others.  I shake my head slightly, trying to refocus, and return my attention to Quatre.  

He's grinning smugly at me.

"What?" I demand a little defensively.

"You guys are just too cute for words," he assures me facetiously.  The self-satisfied expression disappears, and he shrieks as I lunge toward him across the deck.

Cute!  The God of Death is _not cute, thank you!_

****

**_There's a truth  
In your eyes  
Saying you'll never leave me_**

****

"Do you ever miss the circus?"

Trowa looks at me, startled at the abruptness of the comment that broke the silence.  The others have finally left, and we're sitting at the edge of our dock, our feet hanging over the edge, dangling in the water.  The sun has just gone, and the horizon is still light with that blue light that comes with the end of twilight.

"Sometimes," he answers honestly after a moment's thought.

I look away, staring at the ripples in the lake.

"Are you…going to go back to them?" I ask, hearing the sharpness in my own words.  I have to be sharp…otherwise I'd probably beg him not to go.

He's silent for a long time.  Then, unexpectedly, I hear him chuckle.

My head snaps up, and I glare at him.  What's so god-damned funny?  I open my mouth to yell at him, but he speaks first.

"Not until you get over your fear of clowns, Duo," he assures me a little whimsically, grinning.

Now I'm annoyed for another reason entirely.  "I'm not afraid of clowns!" I yell.

He raises a brow at me.

I flush.  "That guy with the weird head thing on just startled me," I insist defensively.  "I didn't know he was there.  And…"

He doesn't say anything, but the grin widens.

"I'm _not afraid of clowns," I maintain stubbornly._

"Of course not," he soothes.  His voice is almost expressionless, but he's laughing at me.  I know he is.

"I'm _not," I insist.  "I'm with you, aren't I?" I point out triumphantly.  There!  That totally refutes his argument!_

I gasp, surprised, as I suddenly find myself on my back on the dock, with him straddling my hips.

I freaking _love being with an acrobat._

"Yes, you are with me," he agrees softly.  "And that's why I'm not with the circus."

I stare up into those gorgeous green eyes so close to mine, and can't mistake the sincerity there.

He's not going to choose the circus over me.

Of course not.  He's not an idiot.

**_  
The touch of your hand says  
You'll catch me  
Whenever I fall  
  
_**

"Trowa!  God, Trowa, Jesus…"  I clench the fabric of the sheets as hard as I can, twisting the material as I pull on it.  My hips arch higher, higher, trying to get even closer to that wonderful, wonderful mouth that's torturing me so wonderfully…

He makes an inquiring sound, and I moan as I feel the vibrations reverberate along my aching length.

I scream again as he suddenly sucks on me hard, and still more pleasure roars through every nerve ending in my body.

"Trowa….please, Trowa…I can't take it anymore."  I writhe beneath him, trying to twist away, to pull away from him.  It's too much, too intense…I can't take any more, can't stand the pleasure so immense that it's threatening to sweep me away from myself, to pull all control away from me…

"I can't, Trowa!" I shout.  "I just can't.  I have to…"

I moan, as his mouth pulls away, leaving me aching.  

"You can," he tells me firmly.  I force my eyes open, and stare up at him, seeing the strength and determination in his eyes.  "You can," he repeats more softly.  "Just let go, Duo," he urges gently.  "Just…let me…"

He grasps my hips more firmly, and moves his mouth over me again, and I scream again…

But I don't fight him anymore, even when the pleasure is so intense I can do nothing but feel, even when the haze clouds my vision, and the pounding of my heart fills my ears, and I can feel nothing but his mouth on me…

Dimly, I'm aware that I scream as the pleasure peaks, as it erupts in an explosion more intense than anything I've ever felt…

Then I'm not aware of anything at all…except for his hands on me, holding me firmly, keeping me from drifting away on this cloud of pleasure forever.

Keeping me safe.

****

**_You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all  
  
_**

A long time later, I open my eyes, and he's staring at me.  A small smile curves his lips, but I'm too exhausted to smile back.

"Tro…that was…"

He leans in and presses his mouth to mine, stopping my words.  He's right.  Words are unnecessary now.

He pulls away, and pulls me into the curve of his body, and I fall asleep listening to his heart beat.

I don't realize until the next morning that he never came himself.  He never even mentioned it.  It was all…for me.

**_  
All day long  
I can hear people  
Talking out loud  
  
_**

"Agent Maxwell!  You never filed a 611A with that last case!"

"Duo!  Where we going on Friday, man?"

"Agent Maxwell?  Where's your analysis on the new series 14 prototype?"

"You must be kidding!  I'm not going anywhere near that machine, Maxwell!"

"Come on, Duo.  Where's my stapler?  I _know you took it…"_

"…could at _least make another pot of coffee if you finish the last one…"_

"So, what do you think?  Should Wufei and I start Ling on solids yet, or wait another month or so?"

"So, then she calls me and tells me that if I don't leave her brother for her, she'll get us all fired…"

"If the six of you don't mind, this is _supposed to be a place of business…"_

"Monkey business, right Agent Maxwell?  Monkey business?   Like, messing around and…"

"Shut up, rookie!  Now, Duo, what do you think about…"

You know, I love all my friends, like my colleagues, enjoy my job.  But man, it's hard being the social one sometimes.  You never get a minute alone.

**_But when you hold me near  
You drown out the crowd  
  
_**

"I filed the 611A for you."

I look up from the paper I've been trying to fill out for the last hour as a soft voice somehow cuts through all the din surrounding me.

Trowa nods down at me as I stare at him uncomprehendingly.  "I filled it out," he repeated, gently moving my hand and picking up the almost-blank paper.  "You don't have to worry about it."

"You filled out…What?" I demand, blinking.

He smiles.  "You looked a little stressed," he explains.  "So I filled out the form."  He winks at me – _Trowa Barton winks at me – and turns and wanders back to his desk._

I watch him move, and feel myself smile at his receding form, with a special little leer for his posterior.  Suddenly, I don't care if everyone in the world yammers at me all day.  I'll fill out forms and test prototypes and make people do things and advise Quatre on his solid food emergency and Heero on his Relena emergency and soothe socially awkward rookies for as long as I need to, as long as I get to go home to that wonderful, marvelous calm when I'm done.

**_Try as they may  
They can never define  
What's been said  
Between your  
Heart and mine  
  
_**

I look up, and Quatre's sitting on the edge of my desk, smirking down at me.  Wufei's behind him, and Zechs and Heero are next to him.  They're _all smirking at me._

"What?" I demand.

"_So cute," Quatre says airily._

"So, have you dropped the big 'L' word yet?" Zechs grins.

"Have you?" I snap back snidely.  That should shut him up.

"Yes," he says calmly.

Well.  That shut _me up.  I stare incredulously back and forth between the smugly smirking blond god and the stoically embarrassed but still pleased-looking Heero Yuy._

"See!  Even _they got over themselves!" Quatre interrupts.  "When are __you going to admit you're stupid over each other and…"_

Wufei snorts.  "They're stupid, period," he announces. 

I roll my eyes.  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Wu-man," I say dryly.

"You shouldn't _need a vote of confidence, Duo," Quatre begins earnestly.  "It should be obvious to both of you that you lo-"_

"Maybe it is obvious," Heero interrupts.  We all look at him.  He stares directly at me.  "You don't have to say everything out loud," he points out to the others, though he's still looking at me.

Heero's really the most like Trowa of anyone.  And I'm the _least like the both of them.  So he's trying to reassure me that just because Trowa hasn't told me anything out loud, doesn't mean he doesn't have "feelings" for me._

But I know that.  They don't understand – none of them understand – what Trowa and I have.  _I don't really understand it.  Not to put it into words, anyway.  Some things just can't be defined with words._

Some things don't have to be.

**_  
The smile on your face  
Lets me know  
That you need me  
  
_**

"_Duo!  So help me, you'd better start running, Duo, because when I get out, your ass is __mine…"_

I laugh wickedly from the far end of the dock, grinning as a dripping, sputtering Trowa pulls himself out of the lake.

"Promises, promises," I call airily as he wipes the streaming hair out of his eyes and glares at me.

He's silent for a moment, then starts to laugh.

I just pushed him – and the electrical doo-hickey from the Preventers office that he was messing with – into the lake, and he's laughing.

Life is good.

****

**_There's a truth  
In your eyes  
Saying you'll never leave me_**

****

"I don't know," I sigh.  I pick up one of his hands, idly playing with his fingers as I talk.  I wiggle backwards a little, fixing my position as I lean against him.  "I like it here. I like this house.  I like being so close to the guys.  But…"

"But you feel a little restless," he finishes.

I sigh, and turn in his loose embrace, so that I can look at him.  He's leaning against the arm of our couch, and his expression is understanding.

"No," I correct, and I see the surprise.  "Not restless, exactly," I correct.  "I don't…I don't really want to go anywhere," I say slowly, feeling a start of surprise as I articulate this to myself for the first time.  "I'm…happy, here.  I just…I've just never been in one place for so long.  I don't really…know how to do it, if you know what I mean."

He looks at me for a long moment.  Then, slowly, he nods.  He _does know what I mean._

"We'll stay here as long as you want," he tells me.  "And if you get tired of being here….we can go somewhere else."

We'll go somewhere else.

If I get infected with terminal wanderlust, and want to uproot our happy, settled little life, tear him from the security he's always longed for and finally found…he'll go with me.

He'll give it all up, for me.

He's not just trying to make me happy.  He'd really do it.

**_  
The touch of your hand says  
You'll catch me  
Whenever I fall_**

****

"You don't have to do this," he tells me firmly.

"It's time," I insist bravely, but I don't feel that brave.

I stare in the mirror.  My hair is loose, wet, brushed out neatly over my shoulders.

I stare from my reflection in the mirror, to the scissors in my hand.

"Duo…there's no need to do this," he insists.  "Why are you making yourself?"

"It's time," I repeat.  I stare down at the long locks of hair tumbling over my shoulders.

It's time.  Time to let go of the past, time to face the future.

_"Just…braid it into your hair, Duo," Solo urges.  "Just take everything that makes you sad, and braid it into your hair.  Then it'll turn into something nice, and it won't bother you anymore…"_

_He's dying.  He's my only friend and he's dying.  He takes care of me…even now, when he's so sick, he smiles for me.  So I won't be sad.  "Your hair's so pretty, Duo," he whispers.  His voice is so faint, raspy.  He doesn't even sound like him anymore.  "So pretty…I'm glad I have something so nice to look at…now…"_

_"Of course I don't mind taking care of your hair for you."  Sister Helen smiles at me, even the sharp, austere folds of her habit unable to disguise the soft, gentle beauty of her face.  "You have such nice hair.  Plus, it's very relaxing," she laughs.  She sobers, and smiles at me again, with that look that no one else has ever given me before. "Besides…it's nice to be able to spend this time with you, Duo," she tells me.  "I look forward to it every day."_

I take a deep breath, trying to push all those voices from the past away, and as I stare in the mirror I see the tears run down my cheeks.

"Duo.  Why is it time?"

"It's time to let go."  I can hardly hear myself.  "Let go of the past…of them…move on."  I can barely get the last words out – I choke on the misery rising up in my throat.

He leans forward abruptly and wrenches the scissors out of my hands and throws them violently across the room.  They knock over a lamp, and I jump, startled at his sudden ferocity.

"You don't need to," he tells me, his voice intense as he grasps my shoulders.  

"But you…"  I need to.  I need to show him that he's the most important thing in my life now, and I'm not still holding on to a bunch of ghosts.

"Me?"  He stares at me, incredulous.  He shakes his head, slowly.  "Duo…you don't have to change a thing for me.  I…"  He hesitates, his gaze faltering.  "I…don't want you to change.  Not for me," he finishes softly.

"But the…it's all…in the past…"

"The past is part of you," he reminds me.  "I don't need you to wipe all that away because you're with me.  I don't _want you to wipe it away," he repeats.  "I just…want __you."_

I stare at him, searching his eyes for truth.

"I don't want you to cut it," he says softly, reaching out and running his fingers through the damp tresses.  "It's so…beautiful."

I can't hold on anymore.  I can't see through the tears, but I feel him.  He wraps his arms around me, and I cry, cry for Solo and the gang and Father Maxwell and Sister Helen like I haven't cried for them since the day the church burned.

And he holds me, and doesn't let go.

**_  
You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all  
  
_**

I wake up slowly, so slowly I'm not really sure I'm awake at all.

I don't know what woke me up.  Sound, or movement, or something.

I don't think it's time to wake up yet, though.  I think I still have plenty of time to rest.

I open one eye just a sliver, and peer through my eyelashes…

Trowa is watching me.  I don't open my eyes any further, don't move at all.  I don't think he knows I'm awake.

He stares at me for a long time, his eyes moving slowly over my face.  He reaches down beside me on the bed, and lifts the end of my braid.  As he watches me, he slowly runs the unbound end back and forth across his cheek.

My chest aches as I watch him watch me.  I've…never seen anyone look at me the way he's looking at me now.

After a long time, he sighs.  He gently reaches out and lightly – so lightly – runs the back of his hand over my cheek.  Then he carefully pulls the blanket up to my chin, and settles on his side beside me.  I feel one of his arms come to rest over me, and a few minutes later I can tell by the soft, even rhythm of his breathing that he's asleep.

But I stay awake for a long time, remembering the expression on his face as he watched me sleep.

****

**_The smile on your face  
Lets me know  
That you need me  
  
_**

"He's going to kill you," Quatre predicts.

"You'd better run," Wufei agrees woefully.

I stare at the crunched fender of Trowa's car.  How the hell can it be that I could pilot a mobile suit through battles and not get a scratch on it, but I can't make it through the parking lot at the grocery store without a disaster?

Well, during wars, I wasn't exposed to the bovine stupidity of your average housewife.

"It wasn't my fault!" I whine.  "That stupid idiot of a woman drove right into me…"

"He's going to have a fit," Quatre repeats.

"You have to help me hide it," I implore desperately.  Trowa loves this car.  He's spent hundreds of hours restoring it.

And this is the third time I've crunched it up in the grocery store parking lot.

"He told me never to take it there again.  I can't let him know.  He can't see…"

"Can't see what?" comes a calm voice behind me.  I jump about fifteen feet, and whirl around.  There's my lover, his arms crossed over his chest, regarding me calmly.

"Tro…uh…nothing.  That is…I mean…"  I flounder.  How can I not lie, and not get killed?

He gently pushes me aside, and stares, his expression pained, at the crumpled piece of metal which had, a bare hour ago, been the proudly gleaming front of his convertible.

I hold my breath, bracing myself for the frozen blast…

He looks at me, I hesitantly meet his eye…and he grins.

"This is why I ordered another fender last time I was looking," he says, completely unexpectedly.  He turns, and walks toward the garage.  I stare at him, my mouth open.  "Come on," he calls over his shoulder.  "Damned if I'm putting it on by myself," he adds, grinning wider at the dumb-founded expression on my face, before turning again and hoisting open the garage door.

I transfer my shocked stare to Wufei and Quatre.

"He must have it really bad for you," Quatre judges.  "He knows your relationship is worth more than the car…

Wufei snorts.  "He needs to work on his appraisals," he decides.

****

**_There's a truth  
In your eyes  
Saying you'll never leave me_**

****

We're lying on our couch, watching a vid of this incredibly old movie that my man down at the video store hooked me up with.

Some people don't understand why I like these…but a good movie is a good movie.  It doesn't matter if it's old.

I don't think this one ever won any awards…and that's just the way I like it.

The 'hero' – some guy named Wayne – is lying in bed with his girlfriend, and they're having one of 'those' conversations.

"Tell me, when the first show is over, will you still love me when I'm an incredibly humungoid giant star?"

She only thinks about it a second, before answering, "Yeah."

He presses on.  "Will you still love me when I'm in my hanging-out-with-Ravi-Shankar phase?"

That would probably be funnier if I knew who Ravi Shankar was, but you can't have everything.

She knows, though, but still doesn't have to pause long before answering.  "Yeah."

He's not happy with that…he needs more.  "Will you still love me when I'm in my carbohydrate-sequined-jumpsuit-young-girls-in-white-cotton-panties-waking-up-in-a-pool-of-your-own-vomit-bloated-purple-dead-on-a-toilet phase?"

She must have it bad, because, amazingly – "Yeah."

"Okay, party. Bonus."

I chuckle.  The movie continues, but I twist my head around and grin up at Trowa.  "Hey, Tro, will you…" I begin.

He grins back.  "Yeah," he interrupts.

I grin and turn back to the movie.

Good times. 

**_  
The touch of your hand says  
You'll catch me  
Whenever I fall_**

****

"It's not your fault, Duo," Une assures me crisply.  "We can't save them all."

I snort.  "Tell it to that kid's mother," I mutter, staring at the floor.

There are so many sick, fucking bastards in the world.  How can anyone ever _do that to a kid?  How does anyone even get the __idea to do that to a kid, much less go through with it…_

"We're going."  Wufei's voice cuts through the sharp silence.  I continue looking at the floor.

"We need to…see Ling," Quatre adds, his voice sick.

I just bet they do.  Hell, _I want to go see Ling, make sure he's ok, make sure no sick fuck like the one we took out tonight has gotten to him, and Ling's not even my kid. _

The one we took out tonight.  Big damn deal.  We were too late.

_I was too late.  It was up to me to run this one, and I fucked it up.  We got there too late._

I hear shuffling, banging, footsteps.  Then, nothing.

I stare at the floor some more.  It's not doing anything very exciting, but I don't want it to.  I feel…dull.  Blunted.  Tired.

Hopeless.

I haven't felt this way in a long time.

Then my view of the floor is interrupted.  Trowa's kneeling in front of me, staring up into my face.

I stare down at him.  I can't hide it, can't protect him from the way I feel.

At times like this, all the darkness inside me fights to get out…and it takes awhile before I can push it in again.

"He'll never do it again, Duo," he tells me.  "We…"  He swallows.  "We couldn't save this one.  But he'll never do it again.  That kid didn't die in vain.  He helped save every other kid that that bastard would have hurt."

I stare at him, and feel the pain in my throat get tighter and tighter.

****

He reaches up and takes both my hands.

"I know," he says simply.  "I'm sorry."

I close my eyes, and lean forward, pressing his forehead to mine.  We sit there for a long time, until I'm able to push all the darkness away, and stand up, and go on.

I can go on, because of him.

**_  
You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all  
  
_**

"Who did it this time?"  

Zechs bursts out of the copy room, his face scarlet with agitation.  "Who broke the damn copier?"

Everyone looks around guiltily.  He glares at me.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he accuses.  "How damn hard is it to call the repair guy, Duo?" he bellows.

"Why do you always think it's me?" I appeal, sounding as wounded as I can manage.  Shit.  He's going to kick my ass.

I hate calling the repair people.  They always put me on hold, and ask me all kinds of questions I can't answer, like the serial number of the unit.  How the fuck am I supposed to know the serial number of the copy machine?

"Tell me it wasn't," he challenges.  "Or better yet…"  He turns his gaze on my lover.  "Trowa!  You've been watching him all day.  Don't try to deny it," he adds.  "Was he not in the copy room just a few minutes ago?"

Fuck.  Busted.  Trowa hates it when I don't call the repair guys too.

Trowa just stares at Zechs, but a wry little grin twists his lips.  The tall blond seems to deflate as I watch.

"He…wasn't?" Zechs says weakly.

Trowa raises his eyebrows, and rolls his eyes a little.

"Oh."  Zechs sounds so depressed.  "I…I'm sorry I accused you," he says stiffly, turning and stamping back into the copy room to call the repair guys himself.

I approach Trowa.  "How do you do that?" I breathe.  And why?  But I'm not asking him that…

He smiles mysteriously.  "You owe me," is all he says before he turns back to his work.

I grin at his lowered head.  I'll have to think of a really good way to pay him back.

**_  
(You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all  
You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all)_**

****

We lay on our backs on the blanket, staring entranced at the night sky.

"Look at that," I breathe.  "They're all over."

We continue to watch as shooting stars flame across the sky.  There's tons of them - probably fifteen a minute.  Every time one fades another takes its place.  We've been watching them for hours, but there's still more and more.

"Isn't this the most amazing thing you've ever seen?" I demand, turning my head toward him.

He turns his head toward me, and his eyes move over my face.  He's silent for a moment, then slowly shakes his head.

No.

He smiles faintly, then turns his face back toward the sky.

He doesn't have to say anything.**_  
  
_**

**_  
The smile on your face  
The truth in your eyes  
The touch of your hand  
Lets me know  
That you need me  
  
_**

"Are you sure you don't mind?" I press.  I know he must mind.  He doesn't really like this sort of thing.

"I'm sure," he replies patiently.

"Because we don't have to do it if you don't want," I repeat.  "It was just an idea.  If you don't feel like it…"

"It's fine," he assures me.

"I know it'll be a problem, and I totally understand if you…"

"Duo."  He reaches across the table and takes my hand.  "I am fine with the idea of having a Christmas party.  I think it's great.  We can invite whoever you want."

"Are you sure?" I demand one more time.

He smiles across the table at me.  "I know how much you like parties," he says.  "It'll make you happy.  So of course it's fine."

I beam back at him, and it's a long time before I return to the thorny problem of the guest list.  After all, that much wonderfulness has to be rewarded.

**_  
  
_**

**_The smile on your face  
Lets me know  
That you need me  
There's a truth  
In your eyes  
Saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says  
You'll catch me  
Whenever I fall  
You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all  
  
_**

****

"Hey, it's my man!" I holler across the yard, running out to meet the charging two-year-old halfway.  "It's the intermediary, the mover of stolen goods, the dealer extraordinaire…. Chang Ling Fence!" I finish in heavy fake Chinese accent, lifting the toddler and tossing him high in the air.

"Maxwell!  I will thank you to neither encourage my son in a life of crime or mock his name," Wufei snaps at me, glaring as he climbs out of the car.  Quatre follows, carefully carrying one of those car-seat, baby lugger things with my infant niece – the new heiress to Winner Inc. – fast asleep inside.

"He doesn't mind…do you, fence boy?" I demand, lifting up the little boy's shirt and blowing a raspberry on his bare tummy.  He giggles and wiggles around in my arms and I hoist him over my shoulder as I lead the way to the patio in the back.

"You're getting him all excited…he's never going to calm down," Wufei predicts dolefully as he hurries after us.

After many hours, and lots of chasing games, and much pretending to throw Ling into the lake – to Wufei's eternal horror – the Wu-man is proven wrong.  Ling's out like a light, still sprawled across my lap.  Trowa's holding Ariana, giving poor Quatre a little break. A much-needed break, apparently.  The poor guy's fast asleep, frankly snoring as he leans heavily against Wufei's shoulder.

"Thank you for playing with him," Wufei says unexpectedly.  I look at him in surprise.

"He always has so much fun with you," he continues.  "I…sometimes forget that children need to…play.  To…roughhouse," he finishes, his distaste obvious as he speaks the word.

I laugh.  "Don't worry about it, Wu," I say lightly.  "That's what uncles are for."

He nods.  "It surprises me when you're so patient with him," he adds after a minute.  "I didn't expect that you would be a person who liked children."

I shrug.  "They're about my mental age," I quip.  The Wu-man's sounding a little too earnest.  He gets off on the 'wonders of fatherhood' kick a lot.  The chance to insult me ought to shake him out of it, though.

"You would be a good father," he says, completely unexpectedly.

I stare at him.  Who is this man, and what has he done with Wufei?  _Wufei is suggesting that I be in charge of a whole little person?!_

"Have you ever thought about it?" Quatre asks sleepily, his eyes opening slowly.  He still looks pretty groggy.

"Thought about…"

"Having children," he finishes for me.  He looks back and forth between me and Trowa.  "Have you guys talked about it at all?"

"No," I say quickly.  Kids?  Us?

A…family?

I've never had a family.

I have someone who loves me.  I never thought I'd have that much.

I look over at Trowa, and he's staring down at the baby, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Not at all?" Quatre presses.

"No," I reply.  Trowa looks up, and our gazes meet.

"Not…yet…" I say slowly, and watch his mouth curve in a small, almost abashed smile, before he looks down at the baby again.

Wow.  Intense.

****

**_  
(You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all  
You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all)  
  
_**

It's our third anniversary.  I hope he likes his present.

I wait for a moment, then slowly follow him into the dining room.

He's kneeling on the floor, the little puppy curled up in his lap.  He's gently rubbing the soft ears, and as I watch, the puppy tentatively swipes his fingers with a small pink tongue.

Trowa looks up at me and I smile as I see the pleasure shining in his eyes.

"I thought it would be good practice," I grin.  "See if we can really take care of something."

He grins, before returning his attention to the dog.  I seat myself, and contentedly drink my coffee as I watch Trowa and the puppy roll around together on the rug.

It's so nice to witness the beginning of a life-long friendship.

**_  
The smile on your face  
The truth in your eyes  
The touch of your hand  
Lets me know  
That you need me  
  
_**

"That's fine," I snarl, slamming the door behind me as hard as I can.  "Just don't fucking bother to tell me anything, Trowa…"

"I didn't want you to get excited when it might not work out," he says tightly.  

"Don't you think I should be the judge of that?" I shout.

I could have had it.  The colony that Maxwell Church was on.  There was a possibility that the L2 leaders were going to sell it off to a private concern.

I could have had it.  But he didn't fucking tell me.

"They hadn't made the decision as to whether or not they were going to auction it off," he says tightly.  "And they didn't, obviously…"

It's going to be scrapped.  All the people are going to be relocated, and they're destroying it.

Father Maxwell and Sister Helen worked so hard to make that colony a good place to live…and they're just destroying it.

"So you didn't even tell me!?" I shout, as loud as I can.

I'm not really angry at Trowa.  I'm angry at the nameless, faceless assholes who are trashing the colony.  But they're not here, and Trowa is.

"What else are you hiding from me?" I shout accusingly.  "Huh, Trowa?  What else do you feel doesn't need my attention?  What else are you lying to me about…"

I may have gone a bit too far there.  Something I can't name – something I've never seen before – flashes in Trowa's eyes.  It's only there an instant, then it's gone…replaced with nothing.  

Shit.  He hasn't looked like that since the war.

"Trowa…I'm sorry.  I…"

But I'm apologizing to nothing.  He's gone.

I swear, and dart across the hall, following him.  I finally catch up with him outside.  He's half-way to the lake when I grab hold of him, clinging to his sleeve and refusing to let go.

"Trowa!  Stop!  I'm…I'm sorry, Trowa.  I know you don't lie to me… I'm sorry I said that.  I didn't mean it.  I'm just…upset about the colony, and…"  I sigh.  It's like holding on to marble.  "And I didn't like it that you knew and I didn't," I admit unhappily.  "I don't like when you don't tell me things."

"I would have gotten it for you if it had gone up for auction," he says remotely.

"I know," I assure him.  "I just…want you to tell me things, not just try to handle them on your own," I say softly.  "When you do that, I feel like…like you don't need me."

"You think I don't need you?" he repeats, and I hear the incredulity in his voice.  "Duo, I…I _always…"  He turns and grabs my arms, pulls me to him and lowers his head to mine.  He kisses me hard, bruisingly, but I don't protest or pull away.  I let him kiss me, I kiss him back, I fall to the grass with him and let him reassure me as to how much he needs me after all._

And he does need me.  He tells me so, very loudly.

Many times.

Good thing we have no close neighbors.

****

**_  
(You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all_**

****

Panic.

I'd wondered what I would feel at this moment, but now I know.

Utter, screaming, panic.

I stand at one side of the little white piece of furniture, and stare down into it.

How could something so small cause me such terror?

This is all Quatre and Wufei's fault.  They got us into it.  Waving their cute kids around and babbling about the joys of parenthood…

They didn't mention that it came with stark, naked fear.

We should have done like Zechs and Heero and unequivocally and repeatedly refused, but no.  We had to buy their line of crap.  Fell for it hook, line and sinker.

Shit.  He's so tiny.  So many horrible things could happen to him if I screw up.

And I screw up a lot.  

But this time _he would suffer for it._

My son…

My _son._

I have a son.  

And I have Trowa.

I have a family.

I look up slowly, the tight panic in my chest slowly fading away, replaced with a feeling of amazement.

I stare into Trowa's eyes, and see reflected in them the same wonder I feel.

He smiles at me, slowly, then his lips move soundlessly.

_I love you._

I stare at him, and the wonder blossoms to life inside me.

_I love you, too, I mouth back._

We've never said that to each other before.  It's been understood…but we've never said it to each other before.

We still haven't _said it, I guess.  But we will._

But this time, this first time, as we stand for the first time over our sleeping son, we don't have to say it out loud.

What we have is too pure for words.

We just…don't have to speak, he and I.

Ever.

**_  
You say it best  
When you say  
Nothing at all)_**


End file.
